All of This
by Thirteenth Syndrome
Summary: Demyx and Axel find that They are Frayed. Zemyx or Dexion. Akuroku.
1. Electricity

Yay! First fan fiction. Lol. Well… I suppose I should just get on with the story. Yeah, well this is a Dexion/Zemyx & Akuroku story (mainly Zemyx though). Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Demyx or Zexion or any of the Kingdom Hearts stuff. :(

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All of This

It wasn't strange for a dark night in their world. The people expected rain and sleet each day. And thunder every night. But it was strange how nature fought them that hour. Wind howled and jeered as a man writhed against his usual source of happiness. Rain's gentle touch was replaced with smashing hands. The drops hardened, allowing the flourishing wrath of the sky to continue. Water battled him and he couldn't understand why. Regardless, he dragged himself towards his apartment complex without complaint. With each step, the storm desperately crashed into him. The wind started to whimper, and as the rain took the complete form of hail, it screamed. Light flashed and encompassed the air. A roar from the clouds followed suit. Even a brittle fog had followed his path. Its dank qualities strangled the remaining wisps of oxygen. But the man didn't care. He would win this war, whether he wanted to or not.

The man wearily fought the night, and stopped. Lifting his head, his eyes traced the outline of his apartment building. His pace hastened, as did the ferocity of the storm. Jagged hail struck the man's face, wind's cries began to clog his eardrums, fog created an illusion of permanent immobilization, and the lightening brightened. Temporarily blinded, he staggered back. The storm still crushed against the man's body, but withered slightly from his backtrack. Realizing nature's ease, the man snapped forward. Slender legs burned through the fog, and whipped against the wind, and even challenged the falling glass. The man's hood rolled off, exposing his tattered hair, face, and neck. Seeing the exposed skin, the storm grew furious, enlarging every faltering aspect of itself. The man's body twitched from the pain, but his legs pushed forward. He no longer felt the ground. Feet swelled and groaned, as legs soared and crashed across slick ground. They made their final leap and the man had reached the front step of his complex.

The apartment building was curved into a massive U, had six stories, and a basement. One could easily observe their neighboring boarders from storm weathered windows. The man hadn't even thought about watching people in his room. He was always busy and had no need for foolish distractions. He had always felt fulfilled, even if he wasn't.

The man fidgeted in his pockets for a moment, while another hand brushed across his wounded cheek. Popping out two keys, his eyes wavered over the details. Both keys were rust-colored and chipped from excessive usage. His fingertips counted the grooves of both keys. _9 on my room key. 6 on my complex key._ Eyes closing, he imagined running back into the hail, welcoming the greedy arms of death-- His mind flashed back. The man hurriedly unlocked the steel door and shoved it open. The screams of the wind, and the groans of the thunder, and all that had trapped him was silenced. He sighed. His hands shook and he noticed his body had slowly rocked itself into a shivering frenzy. Breaking out of his trance, the man scurried to the elevator shaft, and began fervently smashing the UP button. Nothing came. Again. Nothing. Exasperated, he pressed himself from the sluggish doors and searched for the staircase.

The man paused before abandoning the entrance hallway. He had never used the complex stairs in his life and for good reason. No one ever used the staircase. Few had even considered it. And he was definitely not one of those few. His hand ghosted over the doorknob, unsure of its allowance to touch the iron handle. And then he opened it.

The zigzagging stairway was lit by one overhead bulb on the ceiling, and each floor entrance had a caged light bulb on its right side. The basement entrance had no light. The walls were painted a sickly white and the rickety metal stairs were mud-covered. Someone had been using the stairs. Trembling from apprehension, the man stepped backward. He had never been accustomed to fear. He was the guardian. Not the disheveled youth. He aided. He never ran. He cared for… those close to him. And now, now, he was just a nuisance to himself and the people around him. A child. Child.

"I am not a _child!"_

The man cracked forward and stumbled up the stairs. Beads of rain and sweat intermingled as he made his way to the fourth floor entrance. His body swept across the first two flights of stairs, but as he reached the third floor his eyes flickered downward. A red light appeared at the entrance of the basement. He froze and watched the crimson rays dissipate and then reappear. Someone was there. The man tore away from his petrified state and clashed against the following steps. The fourth floor's door was in range. The man dashed towards it and nervously swung the door open. Racing down the hall, he picked his room key out of his pocket and unknowingly reached his apartment. The fourth floor's entrance creaked. Shoving the key in the fragile doorknob, the man shot inside and slammed the door of his solace. His _peace_.

Moving forward, he--

"Demyx…"

Breathing halted. _It couldn't of been. No. No. No. _His beating heart grew erratic. _What heart? Mine? _Feet like bullets. _Please._ Hurtled out of the hall. _My… _Swept forward. _God. _And there he stood. _Beautiful._ Hair of slate. _Finally._ Small, hardcover in hand. _I… _Arm reaching forward. _My electric eyes._ Burst. Shocking sky. _What… _Crack. Sound fractured air. _No!--_

And he was gone.

Demyx stared across the empty space. Walking over to the window, he turned and slumped against the wall. Sharp gusts escaped his mouth, and the air felt colder. His eyelids convulsed and a foreign wetness grazed his cheek. Slowly, Demyx's body sunk lower, permitting his face to touch the moldy plywood below. The flickering of his eyelids ceased, and the gasping was replaced by incoherent puffs. And as darkness embodied him, some heavy air fell on his neck. But his mind had refused the daunting fear and accepted the delusion. The surroundings dulled and became colorless, leaving the man to pass into sleep. His body surrendered to black. He exhaled and a soft weight pressed against him. He opened his eyes, but nothing was there. _Huh? _Nothing.

"Fuck you. Zexion."

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I'll update sometime next week… If anyone wants me to. :D So, um, review if you'd like. Thanks for reading.


	2. Awakening

Second Chapter! Yeah… Enjoy. Thanks to everyone who reads!

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"_Demyx…"_

"Wait--!"

Demyx cranked his eyes open, furiously slamming his eyelids up and down; his mind too impatient for the blotches of black to disappear from his sight. Once he had focused, his eyes darted across the ceiling before him. _Where am I?_ The room was dark, except for some stray light's emanation from a window. His confusion began to dull, as his mind, once again, became hazy. His skin felt like it was drowning in lighter fluid, ready to burn at any moment. Arms shooting upward, his body had been hindered by what felt like a net of wool blankets. They smothered him. Panic arose in his lungs, and he, in his provoked terror, ripped off the sun-derived material. He burst upward, still sitting, but far from relaxed.

No longer was he in his apartment. He was sure of it. Besides, he was on a couch. And Demyx did _not_ own a damn couch.

He tried to stand up. Legs shaking from the new found pressure, Demyx struggled and lamented breathy nothings into the air. In a desperate fury, he kicked what he believed to be the outline of a coffee table.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Demyx, hey, stop!" someone called from behind him.

He didn't listen. He didn't have to listen. All that mattered was that he continued to hurt the fucking table, regardless of his dislike of the hot fluid seeping from his foot.

"Demyx. Hey! Stop!"

The voice was closer now. Probably in front of him. No. The table. The table.

"Stop."

Whomever this was, Demyx loathed the feeling of his wrists suddenly being choked, and his body being shoved backward. He hit the sofa, calming dramatically from the impact.

Steps faded from him.

He didn't realize where he was. And he wouldn't have, but the room across from him was tired of being mysterious. Two claps, and the room unveiled its identity; the kitchen.

It was all so simple now. The sofa, "Clap On" lights, hellish atmosphere… And that musky aroma that just soaks into _every _pore. Suffocating.

In all honesty, he could not figure out why he despised Axel's house. Demyx calculated that it was jealously at first. The house, peaking in every form of elegance, screamed for attention. Marble tiling, Oak paneling, Titanium kitchenware, Crystal dishware, and all the Ritzy electronic equipment one could possibly think of, lived in that house. It wasn't even that Axel was sly and humorous; a social butterfly that teased and taunted, receiving nothing but waves, smiles, and winks in return. Not that Demyx was socially awkward, he too was quite lively, but he never connected the way he wanted; the way Axel did. No. Demyx knew that people felt connected to Axel. And he knew that those blood red strands of hair always sagged whenever the poor guy's emotions couldn't reciprocate the adoring ones of others.

It wasn't jealously.

It was sadness.

Demyx yawned, falling back into the couch's soft mold.

_What a night._

The figure returned carrying a tray of some sorts. It smelled like eggs… and fruit?

Clap, clap.

Axel stood before Demyx, carefully balancing a plate of scrambled eggs, a small orange, and some toast, the toast being the least appealing of the trio. Clearly, someone had scraped off pieces of charcoal from the bread, and then left the forsaken residue in the napkin. Axel noticed the line of disgust in Demyx's mouth and quickly snatched the blue, silk cloth from their eyesight. Despite the blackened bread, Demyx's stomach mumbled sharp whispers, signifying that it desired the meal. His eyes traced the food's appearance hungrily, but his hands laid flat.

He just couldn't eat.

Axel would have none of that.

"Eat. You're wasting my money and your time. I'm not leaving, and neither are you, until you eat--"

"_How_ did I get here?"

Startled, Axel played with his empty hands.

_I owe him._

"I'd been calling you for a couple of days. You never answered, so I figured, 'Is he mad at me or something?' Even if you were angry, I knew that you would at least give me the courtesy of a well thought out _Screw off_, before claiming abstinence on receiving telephone calls."

Demyx nodded, too engrossed in the tale to speak coherently. Well, there was that, and then there was his suspicion that his friend may be 'forgetting' some details. No. Axel didn't lie.

"…,and I drove to your apartment. The room is still _409_, right? Yeah, I thought so. Oh, I had to take the elevator. Apparently, the stairs were 'out of order.' Strange, you know?"

_It isn't that out of place. _

"I went to your door, knocked a couple of times. Even, started shouting and slamming. You didn't answer. I went to your neighbors too. They weren't much help."

_The boarders probably knocked the door into your face._ _Quit lying. _

He knew the redhead wouldn't retaliate either. Six months ago, Axel's mind had warped into some grotesque generosity that simply infuriated Demyx. Axel acted on his emotions. He was never the kind of person to just weep and take the pain. Physical or mental, it didn't matter. Now, his backbone was gone. His fire was gone. Too kind was the man to turn to threats or bothersome pleading. Who was he…?

"I left. Went to Vincent's. I know you don't work there anymore, but I had to try."

Demyx captured the following silence, basking in his thoughts. He hadn't been to Vincent's in so long…

"Demyx. You've got to steady yourself. How many jobs are you working now?"

"…"

"Have you been fired?"

"No. Just hurry up with this. I'm _steady _enough. I don't need your fucking advice on what to do in life."

Axel stared at the couch.

_Get angry already!_

"Okay. Sorry. Well, I remembered you telling me that you were working at The Fray last, but when I got there, your manager said he hadn't seen you in over a week. Demyx--"

"Continue."

Sigh.

"Went to your apartment again. I had this spare key. Went inside and…"

_Axel eased the door open. His steps reverberated throughout the room; the air so cold, he felt his heart tremor. A call. Demyx? My God… A broken mass on the floor. Skin colder than the room. Tattered black sweatshirt and gray pants. Bruises and… Brittle blood? This wretched expression. _

_The body carried to a car. On the shoulder of a friend._

"I drove home. And since I couldn't wake you, actually nothing would, I put you on this couch. Sometimes you'd wake up scared as hell. That's when I'd give you water. You wouldn't eat at all, so I was going to take you to the hospital... But… Do you remember any of this?"

_No._

"I gave you so many blankets. Turned the heater high. But, Demyx, you never stopped shaking."

_What? _He _never_ remembered giving Axel a spare key. He couldn't remember his sudden spurts of consciousness. He didn't remember anything. Demyx wasn't hungry anymore. But he ate, because he hadn't eaten in three days. The eggs, cold and runny, slid down his throat like saliva. The orange. It stung. He must have been biting his tongue in his dreams. But the toast... It was pleasant.

Demyx felt obligated to thank Axel for his hospitality, but a strange feeling of resentment had dawned on him.

Axel noticed the sudden drop in temperature.

"Demyx, how did you… why were you on the ground?"

_Clang._

It was all back. The storm. The flash. The boom.

And as his fork dropped to the floor, the remaining food burst into the air, landing on the scarlet tile below.

"What?"

Demyx, livid and trembling, pulled his drained body up and ran for the door.

Axel sat, shaken.

"Please! I'm sorry! I…"

A moment passed. Axel found himself propped against the couch, whispering in apology. He was unable to stop the man. Defeated in every aspect.

"Axel, thank you. I'm sorry for all of this, it isn't my place to treat you like shit. It's not your fault, but I need to leave. I just need to go. I'm sorry."

Axel smiled, true feelings evident in his eyes. Demyx knew of these counterfeit smiles; the ones that hurt just to exist. It didn't matter how often he practiced them. He knew, and Demyx knew, that it was impossible to hide anything from someone you loved.

And then he ran out of the house, slamming the door, leaving his friend behind him.

Axel leaned back, whistling a tune. Filling the void in the house with a song.

---

He ran. Out the door. Down the moon kissed pavement. Under the wings of trees and clouds. Above the scarred earth. And up to the decaying bench of the bus stop.

Wheezing, Demyx bent forward, clutching his kneecaps for the little support they could offer. He ached, wishing he would have eaten the meal Axel had so humbly offered him. _Fuck. _He was toned from all the running lately, but one couldn't help but notice the sickly glow that radiated from his body.

Demyx's head popped forward, hearing the bus arrive in its usual, mechanically shrill manner. Its ashy façade, scratched and faded. _Imperfect… _

His fist launched itself into the bus doors, earning a muffled shriek from the designated driver above. Demyx held his fist to his side, ignoring the small shards of glass protruding from his knuckles.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You better pay for that! Ah hell, well, I suppose the company will pay for it, but this ain't a free ride, bub."

Marching up the steps, Demyx stopped, plunged his unscathed hand into a pocket, and threw some money at the perplexed man.

"You think you can just… A twenty?"

The driver stared at the bill before him. He hadn't eaten in a couple of days, due to all the bills he had to pay, but this money was too much for him to take. He turned his head towards the back, seeing the aggravated man sitting on the far right, second seat to the back. Demyx was staring at the back of the seat in front of him; his eyes emitting fire.

"Hey, don't you want your change back, mister?"

But Demyx kept his eyes forward, too determined to advert his gaze.

"Mister?"

No change.

Overcome, the bus driver tried to reconcile with the young man. _Poor guy seems down._

"Where to?"

After all, Demyx was the driver's last customer, considering there were no more stops after this one.

Demyx's face softened into a detached form, allowing his body to rotate towards the dirty glazing. He watched his breath hit the glass and vanish, pressing his forehead into the windowpane.

Expecting no answer, the driver twisted his head back to the front, adjusting the mirror to choke the silence. His arm reached for the keys, ready to--

**"Anywhere."**

He revolved the keys to the right. Ready to drive on. No questions. No words.

And Demyx sat, seeing the city pass on, crying for the first time.

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I despise this chapter, but it's here. I promise the next one will be better! I hope… Enjoy! By the way, Demyx somewhat teared up in the first chapter, but this is the first time he has broken down in front of anyone.


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